


We're All Sinners Now

by sinmara



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Choking Kink, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Fluff, Multi, Self-Insert, Smut, Werewolf Jesse McCree, depressed reader, fat reader, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-02-12 02:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinmara/pseuds/sinmara
Summary: A collection of Overwatch reader one shots and prompt requests from jack-morrisins @ tumblr.com





	1. Soldier 76/Reader: Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you take off Soldier 76′s mask for the first time...

  When you take off Soldier 76′s mask for the first time, all you can focus on are his eyes.

They’re _blue._ You hadn’t expected them to be so bright, but you can’t really think of a solid reason why. Somewhere in your mind you painted him with any other color - something dark to match his intensity, or something pale to match his hair, but that was silly, wasn’t it?

You want to take in all of his face, but can’t - how can you tear yourself away from soaking up his gaze? You’ve never seen his eyes for as long as you’ve known him, and compared to the thin red line that usually denotes his gaze, it’s honestly somewhat shocking. But while they’re fixated on you they’re so _warm_ , the harder edges of his personality worn away with blatant affection. For a few moments it’s like he’s a completely different person without the mask, a smile just barely touching the corners of his eyes.

It’s the scars that grab you next, long smooth cuts angled across his rough face. They’re not ugly - rather, they’re pretty much the definition of roguish and attractive - but there’s so much more than those two. As you take in the greater image of his face you can pick out dozens of smaller scars, from cuts to burns that make up a galaxy of lifetime damage. _How many of these were from a rambunctious youth?_ you wonder. _How many more of these were picked up in battle?_

Without thinking, you reach out and brush your thumb across one of the large scars that bisects his lips, and he gasps quietly the second your skin meets his. Quick as it had happened you snatch your hand away and mumble an embarrassed apology, but all the man in front of you does is chuckle. His face is as red as yours, but it doesn’t deter him at all. Instead of letting you shy away, he gently takes your hand in his and guides it to his face once more.

“I was just startled, that’s all,” he says, though you can feel the heat coming from his cheeks as easy as you can see it. His smile is a little sheepish as you caress his worn, rugged face, taking pleasure in the way his short beard feels against your skin. It strikes you that his beard fits him perfectly - perfectly uniform and a little prickly - and it makes you laugh.

“What’s funny?” he asks, his smile broadening even as you were making prickly comparisons between his personality and his choice of facial hair. “It’s nothing,” you half-lie. “I’m just happy I get to see you like this. It makes you seem a lot more human.”

“So, you like what you see?” he teases, boldly pressing a chaste kiss against your palm. All thought escapes for that brief moment, every part of you completely focused on the warmth of his soft lips against your hot skin. You want to melt from the affectionate gesture, but manage to swallow down the fluttery anticipation that’s blooming all over your insides.

“I do,” you answer, albeit a bit breathlessly. “That is– I liked what I saw with the mask on, too.”

He reaches up to stroke your face gently, mirroring the way you touch him, and there’s no way you can form a coherent thought. His fingers are warm but rough, the feel of his skin just soft enough that his touch is comforting more than painful. Despite everything you’ve seen him do while working, how absolutely _tough_ the man is, every little touch of your skin is gentle, reverent and warm.

Whoever he might’ve been before he put on the mask, there was still some of that man in Soldier 76; you could feel it so perfectly expressed in each caress and it made your heart ache that he hid it away behind the mask.

“I like what I see too,” he says sweetly.

When he leans in for a hesitant kiss, you don’t move. What you _want_ is to leap into his arms, your lips finding his with the reckless passion of someone burning with unexpressed affection; what you _actually_ do is let him close the gap between you at his own pace. The first one is a shy, exploratory peck. The second is a slightly longer - but still sweet - peck.

The last one, he goes all out.

It’s like a dam breaks when his arms circle your body and pull you close enough for the two of you to be pressed chest-to-chest. Every noise of happiness and pleasure that he’d swallowed when you touched him previously bubbled up again, issuing from his lips straight to yours. It was even sweeter than hearing it aloud, feeling his affection and his need communicated through your kiss. Now you give yourself permission to melt into his arms, the meeting of your lips sapping every desires to resist riding every sensation for as long as possible.

When the two of you finally separate you’re both breathless, laughing giddily at the feeling of being so intimate. You can’t remember _ever_ hearing him laugh like this, and you can feel your heart swell where it ached so deeply before. When he pulls you to him tight to cuddle, you forget all about _Soldier 76_. About who he becomes when he puts that mask on and the things he does under that guise.

For a few moments, anyway. For a few precious moments, he’s just the man you’ve fallen in love with.


	2. Soldier 76/Reader: Choke (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you make such cute sounds"/"don't cover your mouth, i like hearing you" (NSFW, Choking Kink)

You’ve spent so much of your time living in close quarters with other people, it’s a difficult thing to be loud. Even when 76 presses the full weight of his body against yours, thrusting himself into you as deep as you can handle, the most sound that comes out of you is a strangled croak. Despite how hot your body feels under his, only whispers of his name leave your lips; every sound after is muted by years of self-imposed silence.

Compared to the way he’s  _so free_  with the delicious, feral sounds that come from him, the sounds you make are  _pathetic_.

“Come on, honey,” he coos, stilling his hips against yours when he’s deep inside you again. His hands frame your face and even though you’re used to the way his voice sounds so close to your ear, it still makes you shiver.  “ _ **I like hearing you, you make such cute noises.** ”_

“I can’t-” you protest weakly, and even that comes out as a silent whine.

“ _No?_ ” he teases, slowly grinding his hips against yours with a satisfied groan that makes you squirm in delight. When his lips find your ear again he nips affectionately at the flesh below it. 

“You forget,  _I know your secret.”_

You can’t hide the blush that paints your cheeks at his words. They always precede  _the one thing_  that -  _funny enough_ \- makes you lose your composure and moan wantonly. No matter how much you prepare for it, no matter that you know it’s coming, it sends fire through your veins when he touches you.

The moment his hand finds your neck and clamps around your throat, you come undone. Every moan that planted itself firmly in your throat springsforth, bursting out in a rush of  _words_ and _curses_ and  _whines_ that composes the perfect accompaniment to 76′s heated groans.

With a wicked, satisfied grin he slowly resumes thrusting himself in and out of you, timing each one with the gentlest of squeezes around your neck.

“See now?  _That’s much better.”_


	3. Reinhardt/Reader: Ride (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinhardt loves to watch you.

Reinhardt  _loves_  to watch you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, when you’re around it’s hard for the man to concentrate. Even if he’s trying to be serious, it falters when you come into view, his inability to hide a grin becoming a sweet joke between the two of you. 

The way he’s looking at you right now, though, is  _no joke._  

“ _I love to watch you–_ ” he croons affectionately, settling his large hands on your hips. It’s impossible to resist the way his half-lidded eyes take you in, the suggestion in them making you shiver. Not that you could really resist much about the gentle giant, especially when he pulls you close and guides you to sit on his thigh. With your legs spread over each side of his thick leg, the grin returns to his face. 

Feeling his thigh pressed tightly between your legs makes you blush, your whole body heated by the gentle pressure that makes you throb. It’s a dull ache at first, but the needy feeling inside your body grows as his fingers dig gently into your hips, pressing you tighter against him with a quiet chuckle. It makes you gasp, the way he handles you gently but firmly, and it doesn’t take long for your body to follow the motion of his hands. 

“– _Especially like this.”_

A slow grind, a self-indulgent roll of your hips, and Reinhardt is groaning along with you in delight, unable to keep his eyes away from yours. His voice is so soft as he encourages you with murmurs of praise, every word meant for late nights and bedroom talk making you squirm with pleasure. You anchor both hands to his broad chest to balance your body as you ride his thigh in earnest, tossing your head back when the delightful sensations of heat arc through your core. 

His large hands caress your sides as you lose yourself in the feel of his body under yours. Every sensation in your being is focused solely on the point where your hips connect with delicious friction to his thigh, where his hands caress your soft sides.  _Where his eyes stare straight through you with wicked intent._

“ _That’s it_ ,” he purrs. “ ** _Ride me_.** ”


	4. McCree/Hanzo/Reader: Wicked (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: How about a werwewolf!McCree x Reader x demon!Hanzo Drabble?

There was probably a very nasty word to describe you right now.  _Disgusting_ came to mind immediately.  _Wanton_  followed it.  _Depraved_ rounded the group and you had to admit,  _that_  was your favorite. There wasn’t any other way to describe the sensation of pure, exhilarating wickedness when you discarded caution, forgotten somewhere with your clothes pooled on the floor.

These men were curved claws and sharp teeth, something  _other_  than human standing out in stark contrast to your soft, bare humanity.  Even as they bared their fangs, each touch was delicate across your skin, tracing the lightest of red lines that faded with the application of feverish follow-up kisses.

Jesse laves his wolfish tongue along every mark, each curl of it drawing sighs of pleasure from your chest. His excitement is easy to feel when he presses his body against your back, the soft fur that coats his chest making you squirm. He laughs -  _pleasantly_  - at that, his transformed shape giving his already smooth voice a deeper, rougher edge that jolts straight down to your own arousal.

Hanzo bares his sharp teeth with every kiss, soothing away one red line but adding a few more with gentle bites. He inspects each one when he’s finished, an inhuman  _hum_  of satisfaction resonating in this throat that curls your toes. Then he continues, adding mark after mark in a long trail of pain and pleasure that’s dizzying.

Their hands follow their mouths, engulfing you in the sensations of both their bodies. Where Hanzo’s body feels smooth, Jesse’s feels rough; where Jesse pushes his body against yours in ruts of barely concealed hunger, Hanzo coldly stokes the fires of your arousal with his fingers, drawing away long before you lose yourself in pleasure. Only the whimpering pleads of your voice brings an unnatural flush of heat to his dark skin.

 _“Please_ ,” you whine, frustrated that you can’t turn into  _every_  overwhelming sensation at once.

 _“Please,_ I want more _.”_

Jesse’s speech is a little more  _cumbersome_  in his transformed shape, but the smooth tone and honeyed charm are still there as he nuzzles your neck with affection. “You sure you can handle ‘ _more_ ,’ darlin’?”

You nod feverishly, reaching out to eagerly draw both men close to your body. Shivers of delight race through you at their touch – Hanzo’s warm, nearly human body contrasting with Jesse’s soft fur – the raw heat surrounding you nearly too much to bear.

 _“Yes,”_ you answer breathlessly, “I can handle ‘more.’ _”_

The two men exchange a look over your shoulder, a wordless agreement being made somewhere in their locked gazes. You want to hear them say the words, to say  _anything_ , gracing your burning desires with confirmation that this wasn’t just a fever dream or some kind of delusion.

Without a sound Hanzo answers, meeting your arousal with his fingers again with a soft touch that makes you groan. Jesse keeps you steady while his partner teases delirious sounds of pleasure from you until you’re rutting against his hand, begging for the release you desperately crave. You can’t bear the thought of him moving away again - not  _right now_  - tears of frustration prickling at your eyes while you teeter ever closer to your peak.

 _“More?”_ Hanzo repeats in amusement, his mouth widening into a feral grin as his blank white eyes burn into yours. “We will give you  _‘more.’_ ”


	5. Soldier 76/Reader: Breakfast Can Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: literally any of those prompts for s:76/reader, pls support my love of my grump-ass fave

76 often complained that his bones were creaky, but today you’d swear you could  _hear it_  for yourself.

You’d always taken the dry comments as humorous jabs at his age, made to make you chuckle and roll your eyes at every insistence that he was just  _too old_. Too old for the missions he frequently undertook but refused to tell you about; too old to be gone for weeks at a time on said missions; too old to be chasing ghosts.  _Too old for you._

What a load of horseshit.

The comments tended to die after a day or two of your reunions, but today you’re not so sure. Both of you had waken up early – as was usual – but this morning he had a hard time finding any real good reason to get out of bed. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and let him rest, enjoying the warm silence of sunrise as you set to making breakfast for you both.

You prepared a feast. Well it was  _practically_  a feast anyway, and with practiced ease you maneuvered a tray full of it into the darkened bedroom and set it beside the bed. He didn’t move, even when you slid into the bed next to him and waited _,_ sipping at a cup of hot coffee.

Like clockwork, only a few moments passed before you heard his deep voice mumble, “… _Is that bacon?”_

You laugh, shaking your head as he sits up slowly beside you. “Better believe it is. Still hot, too.”

You hold the tray out to him, but he bypasses its tempting buffet to press a kiss to your lips. His bright blue eyes are lidded, a lop-sided grin on his face giving him the appearance of a man still halfway in a dream; but his focus is completely on you, and  _sharp_  as ever. 

“ _Good morning, beautiful_ ,” he says, pressing a few more kisses along your cheeks, a deep shade of red from the deep rumble of his voice first thing in the morning. No mask, no armor, and  _no weapons_  – here in bed it’s easy to forget how he hides himself outside of your house, especially when his scarred face is watching you as intently as he is right now. 

_To hell with the breakfast._

You set the tray and coffee down on the side table, coaxing him forward for more kisses with a giddy grin, more than happy to let your feast get cold while the two of you spend your morning warming up all those creaky, old joints. 


	6. Soldier 76/Fat Fem!Reader: Relax (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fat fem reader x s76 -  “Relax. Just lie back and let me make you come.”

God, you  _want_  this. More than anything right now, you  _want_  to feel how perfectly Jack’s face fits between your thighs, his sharp eyes eating up your every reaction while his mouth works over your body. His bright stare alone is enough to make your body shiver with involuntary desire, but as he leaves kisses and smooths his hands over your round belly in gentle worship, the rumble of his voice praising you only adds fuel to the fire. 

“ _Gorgeous,”_ is all he has to say as he gently squeezes the fat around your middle, a wolfish grin lighting up his face. Of your past lovers, none of them have really taken the time to touch you like this, and it’s an odd, conflicting sensation that knots your stomach. On the one hand, his genuine affection makes every part of you light up with a heady mix of love and lust. 

On the  _other_  hand, the unbidden thoughts that always hide in the back of your mind begin to surface with every little kiss. You’re  _nervous as hell_ , watching his body fit perfectly between your large thighs - large enough, it feels like in a moment of weakness - to easily suffocate him. You’re no tiny woman, and you and Jack are closer in weight to one another than you’d care to admit to anyone else. He always just grins when it comes up, trying to soothe your fears with a kiss that steals your breath away – but it can’t stop the ridiculous thoughts that you’re going to  _crush_ your super-soldier boyfriend with your weight. 

“You know,” Jack says slyly, accentuating every word that parts his lips with a kiss along your thigh. His mouth against your skin is gentle and almost  _teasing_ , making you involuntarily shiver with delight all over again.

His fingers drift along the outside of your thighs, your body squirming at the contact. It’s brief, however, when he grasps your hips in his hands, softly pinning you in place. You can feel the short tips of his fingernails just digging into your skin, and the sensation is nearly too much.

“It’s gonna take,”  _a kiss,_ “a lot more-”  _another kiss, just hovering at the top of your thigh_  “than your beautiful body-”  _one last kiss on your tummy as he looks at your flushed face, practically beaming with lust_  “to break me.”

“ _Jack-”_  you breathe, unintentionally clinging to your round belly like a lifeline. “ _Please_ , I want you.”

“You want me to  _what_ , honey?”

He murmurs against your thigh, giving it a gentle bite when you don’t answer quick enough that makes you squeak in surprise.

“I want you to– to make me come with your mouth.”

Jack grins, tightening his grip on your wide hips and pulling you closer. He’s eagerly looking you over, and the doubtful, nervous feeling in your gut makes you want to immediately cover yourself, but the lustful look on his face keeps your hands twisted in the bed sheets. The warmth of his voice hummingagainstyourskin drowns you in delightful sensation while his hands slowly begin to draw pleasure from your arousal, the heat of his touch shooting through you like a bolt of lighting. 

 **“ _Relax, honey_ ,”** he says affectionately, **“ _Just lie back and let me make you come._ ”**


	7. Zenyatta/Depressed!Reader - Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The cycle will begin anew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the depressionxiety monster is a real bitch.

There is no energy within you to do anything today. So… _you don’t._

You woke to the sound of distant thunder rumbling across the morning, six am bringing with it muted sunshine and a sky full of gray clouds. The sunrise any other morning would be hypnotizing, splashes of color transforming the day right before your eyes, but today is underwhelming. You sit in the window and watch as deep black night fades into a gray morning, coating everything outside the window in a dull palette. Rain was sure to follow the mixed hues of fluffy clouds, so you parted the curtains, snuggled back into your bed, and watched as the first drops began to stream down the glass. 

The weather outside mirrors perfectly how you feel inside today. There are shades of dark and light in sky, warring for prominence just as your desires do. You feel apathetic and exhausted, ready to waste your day doing nothing; but that wars with your need to  _do something_ , to be  _productive_  when you’re away from work, as if you’re a failure for not using your time as everyone else would. Both feelings leave you in a whirl of emotion, not settling on one or another aside from a slowly creeping chill of depression. 

So you lie there, watching the gentle streams of rain turn into a downpour, battering the window and roof for long hours that seem to pass too slowly and too fast simultaneously. 

You change your position in bed only once, when Zenyatta floats in quietly and takes a place on the bed unused by your large cocoon of blankets. He says nothing, his presence only obvious by the gentle chimes of the orbs around his neck and the quiet  _hum_  of his internal motors. You answer his silence with your own, covering his crossed legs with a soft blanket, and laying your head into his lap. 

He hums thoughtfully, adjusting himself for your comfort until you’re both in a position to watch the pouring rain change the landscape outside.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks gently, his voice slightly louder than the storm on the other side of the window. Now it’s your turn to adjust until your head is comfortably in his lap, obstructing neither your view of the calming weather, or the trajectory of his orbs as he meditates. 

“Yeah, this is perfect, Zen,” you reply, a tiny smile gracing your lips for the first time today. 

His orbs glow softly as he draws his arms out to his sides, the chain slowly beginning to spin around him. You can feel his eyes on you, his head tilted down at a soft angle as the orbs chime, but you don’t meet his gaze. Instead, it’s the orb’s quiet song, paired to the gentle hum of Zenyatta’s mechanical body, that draws all your attention. Married to the sound of the rainfall outside, the symphony of sounds almost makes you feel calm. Almost. 

Long moments pass in the shared embrace, but instead of feeling comforted you start to feel  _worse_ , the old anxiety welling up in your stomach. You peek at the clock -  _4PM_  - and groan, unable to push down the way your feelings are rising to the surface.  _You’ve wasted your whole damn day doing nothing, and now it’s almost over._ The thought multiplies itself through your mind until there’s nothing else there. Not the rain, slowing to a gentle spray; not the soft chimes of Zenyatta’s orbs; not even Zenyatta himself, whose gentle warmth and quiet hum surrounding you had previously eaten up all your thoughts. 

“There is no need to feel discouraged.” 

Zenyatta’s warm voice chips away at some of the thoughts in your mind, pulling your eyes up to his. He’s still sitting there, his head tilted downward to observe you, and despite the way you feel otherwise, it’s… _comforting._

He takes one glowing orb from the chain in his hands, drawing it between them and setting it just at the top of your head. It hovers there, chiming soft, harmonious notes that begin to wash over you. There’s warmth there, spreading through your skin like the glow of a fireplace.  _God_ , you would  _bathe_  in the sensation if you could, feeling the stresses melt away in its soft glow as if they were nothing but a trifle. 

The anxieties, the fears, the depression all begin to fade to tiny pinpricks of light, still hiding there somewhere on the edges of your mind – but now they’re small enough that you can see more than the dragging darkness that clung to you. The rain has picked up again, battering against the window in a constant rhythm. Chimes from the orbs have quieted into a gentle song, reverberating deep inside your chest with a pleasant thrum. Zenyatta is all around you, a quiet hum rumbling through the metal of his body - a pleasant sound that makes prickles of sensation bloom along your scalp. 

You let yourself fall into the warmth of this moment, relaxing completely against him and allowing your eyes to fall closed. In a gesture that’s become common between you on days like these, Zenyatta gently threads the tips of his fingers through your hair, humming thoughtfully at the way you shiver pleasantly at his light touch.  

“This is just a temporary setback. The cycle will begin anew. Tomorrow.”


	8. McCree/Reader: Heatwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesse, it’s too damn hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for real though, hot weather sucks

“Jesse,  _it’s too damn hot_.” 

You’re whining again for the thirtieth time today, but Jesse just laughs. Sprawled across the couch with a spray bottle in one hand and a big bottle of ice water in the other, you’re the very picture of  _a goddamn mess_ , to the point where you’ve avoided looking at yourself in the mirror all day. Self-confidence be damned, you put on the least amount of clothing you could, parked yourself in front of a fan with all the cold water you could handle, and hadn’t moved since long before the temperature peaked at 102 degrees. Jesse, however, seemed to take it in stride, flashing you an amused grin every time you whined about the weather. 

“I mean  _really_ ,” you continue, oblivious to the amusement growing on your boyfriend’s face as he sits down next to you, turned into whatever television show you’d long forgotten watching as you boiled alive. “Who ever thought summer was a good idea?”

You huff, crossing your arms with a pout. “Idiots. I’m gonna  _die_.” 

He laughs again, hooking his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close, a gesture that makes you grimace when you come into contact with his ridiculously warm body heat. 

“Aw, come on now darlin’, you’ll be fine.” 

Jesse plucks the spray bottle from your hand and sprays a light mist of water across your face, a cool sensation mixed with the fan that makes you sigh in delight. It’s short lived in the sweltering heat, but when he tops off the gesture with a playful kiss to your lips, you can almost forget you’re being baked alive in your own apartment. 

“Tell ya what, why don’t I run us a nice cool bath, grab some drinks ‘n’ we’ll just ride out the heat for a while together. How’s that sound?”  

You let out a quiet laugh, already sluggishly moving to get off the couch with his help. “Like  _heaven_. Please tell me there’s going to be a  _mountain_  of ice in those drinks.” 

He kisses you again, drawing you close easily despite how the heat of his body makes you sweat that much more. In the cool of the bath, a little bit of heat between you sounds like the cherry on top of a pleasant afternoon; but right now, as his gentle, well-worn hands wander the bare parts of your body with affection, it feels too sweltering in a couple different ways. It doesn’t last long, but when he moves away you almost shiver from the loss of physical contact. 

“You can have _all_  the ice you want,” he teases, chuckling as he watches your face turn even more red. 

“Just go on and get undressed, I’ll have everything waitin’ for ya.”


End file.
